Page 51 of The Kiss of Deception

“Excuse my fucking language, but what the fuck are you talking about? What’s that even supposed to mean?”

She doesn’t answer right away, staring ahead, working her delicate jaw with barely restrained violence. When she does, she repeats her earlier tactic and changes the topic again so quickly, I might get whiplash. “So is that why you’re leaving? Because your team is full of snakes and spiders?”

There it is, the other elephant in the room—the secret that got us here.

I want to understand what the hell she meant before, what bothered her so much—unlike the treatment she received, to which she didn’t bat an eye. And I kind of really want a fight to purge the turmoil that’s seized me. But if she doesn’t want to elaborate, respecting her wishes is the least I owe her.

I will the combativeness away with a sigh.

“If you’re expecting a big fallout or something, there isn’t one. I…” I sigh again. Suddenly, there’s only exhaustion where there was anger. “The club is great. State of the art facilities and technology, talent and excellence…”

“But…” She shoots me one of her signature looks, loaded with a scrutiny that reminds me of her job.

Would it be smart to tell her the truth? To give her more ammunition against me in her already full hands.

Ultimately, it isn’t a matter of whether I trust her—it’s a matter of whether she trusts me.

Because I do. Or, at least, I want to.

With my next words, she’ll know it too.

“It feeds off hatred. For the rival. More than it feeds off that pure love and passion for their own club. You hear the fans shouting insults against their rival more than you hear them chanting their support for us. The president is happier with the rival’s failure than our own victories.

“We won the fucking Champions League, and everyone’s first impulse was to take a jab at our rivals.”

The red light swings as I shake my head, shocking even myself with words. I’d been keeping so much hidden inside for so long that I hadn’t noticed it’s been robbing me.

“I understand rivalry, I do. I enjoy it. I thrive on competition. I don’t mind the provocations. But blind hatred? Hatred that trumps the love for your own team? Those are not the values I want to stand for, or what I want fueling me. I can respect that some might, but that’s not who I am.”

I chance a look in her direction to read her face. Lately, I think I can do it intermittently—whether I’ve been getting better at learning her nuances or she’s getting sloppy at hiding.

Right now, she’s a perfectly clean canvas, no hint as to what’s happening behind her eyes.

“It’s stealing the joy this game gives me. I used to go on the pitch and feel peace. Crowds of screaming people only feet away, yet it was just me and the ball and the net.”

The only place in the world where I’m not still waiting for everything I want. I become it. Where all those nagging bugs are asleep, their voices shushed under the adrenaline. Though, these days, they’ve been unusually quiet, I realize now.

“I don’t feel that peace anymore.”

The weight of the confession debilitates my voice. It’s strangled and suffocated. Zoe allows me all the space and time to tell my truth, listening intently.

“I—Sometimes I wonder if I’m actively looking for reasons to justify my betrayal. But, in the end, whether it’s all in my head or not, the answer is the same. I’m not happy anymore. And I’m not willing to sacrifice my happiness any longer.”

She wears a look of loss for direction in waters deeper and darker than she anticipated. This kind of vulnerable honesty is foreign to her. She doesn’t know how to navigate it—hers or someone else’s.

Opting for a joke, Zoe tries to lighten the somber mood. “So you’re a romantic…”

I tilt my head with a pointed look, telling her I see right through her. With a sigh, she slumps into the seat, staring ahead at the traffic. If I squint a little, I can almost see her mulling over my words in her head.

“Your contract ends at the end of the season.”

“It does.”

“You’re allowed to sign with another team 6 months before your current contract expires. You can start negotiations before. You’re not doing anything wrong. Why are you so keen on keeping it a secret?”

Because I’m not leaving for just any other team, am I?

I’m trading my current club for its historical rival. The highest treason in sports.

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